we sweep forward through the dark, our spotlights illuminating the water around us, I keep glancing over at Theo, who seems to be struggling for words. Is he going to apologize for doubting Paul? Or is he going to try to kiss me again? “You must be—” My words falter, because I don’t know what to say. “It’s good to know Paul was on the level all along. Right?” “Yeah. Of course.” Theo opens his mouth to say something else, then closes it. He looks more tormented by this than I ever thought he would be. Just then, Dad breaks in over the comm. “What the devil are you two doing in a submersible?” “We’re handling it fine,” Theo insists. “And having a blast. Admit it; you’re jealous.” “I’m worried. Also jealous, yes, but that’s about fifteen percent to worried’s eighty-five percent. How’s it going out there?” “Fine so far,” I say, glancing up at the speaker in the roof. “We think we see the winch.” “Brilliant. I’ll take the worried down to about fifty percent, then. Listen, one of the refugee vessels just signaled. I thought I’d patch you in.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Talk to you later.” Then there’s a moment of static as the original call is replaced by the new one, and I hear a deep voice say, “Marguerite?” It’s like fireworks going off. “Paul. You made it.” “Almost. I should dock within the next ten minutes.” “And you talked to Dad?” “Yes. Thank God he was here. From Triad’s files I thought he would be—but I wasn’t sure, not until we spoke.” “Now we build another Firebird and go home.” I’m grinning up at the speaker as if I could see Paul there, yet all my happiness can’t blind me to the fact that we’re not alone. “Theo’s here too.” “Hey, little brother,” Theo says. His expression is rueful. “Looks like you’ve been one step ahead of us the whole way.” “I should have come to you at the beginning.” It’s impossible not to envision Paul’s face as he says this—grave and repentant. “I had no idea what they would do to Henry, or I would have.” “Water under the bridge.” Then Theo looks up at the distant glitter of the ocean surface above us and adds, “Pun not intended.” I still can’t believe Paul made it here. “Where were you?” I ask. “Did you set out immediately, or did you need a reminder?” “I started toward you as soon as I got here. I don’t need the reminders any longer,” Paul says.
“Don’t need them?” I frown. Next to me, Theo sits up straighter. “In the last dimension we visited, Triad has developed a way for its spies to remain in control throughout their trips. It’s this drug—damaging, and sometimes hard to get, so it’s not a permanent solution—but it works in short doses,” Paul says. “You can make it out of ordinary chemicals, easily found in almost any dimension you’d go to. They call it Nightthief. An injectable liquid, this brilliant green color—” Paul keeps talking. I don’t hear a word. Slowly I look down at Theo, who is looking directly at me. He doesn’t say anything; he knows I know. Nightthief. The green liquid I saw Theo injecting in London. They’re one and the same. Theo would never— No. My Theo wouldn’t. But this is not my Theo.
26 “NIGHTTHIEF CAUSES HALLUCINATIONS—INTENSE PAIN—but it buys you days of controlled consciousness. I knew I’d need to use it to reach you.” Paul continues speaking over the intercom, unaware that we can hear but are not listening. I stare at Theo; he meets my gaze evenly, and in his face I see shame, but also relief. Like he’s thinking, At last she knows. Everything in me rejects this. Theo wouldn’t. He’d never spy for Triad; he’d never hurt my family. He’d never hurt me. My Theo really wouldn’t. But this isn’t my Theo, and it hasn’t been for a very long time. Since before this journey began . . . I scream even as Theo vaults toward me. “Paul, it’s Theo! Theo’s the spy!” But Theo snaps off the comm with one elbow as he pushes me back against the wall. I try to shove him off, but the sub is so small that I’m crumpled beneath him, unable to brace myself or get any leverage. “Will you—just—will you listen? Okay?” Theo scrambles to keep me down, his forearms holding mine down. His brown eyes beseech me even as his weight bears down hard. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you.” “It was you the whole time. That’s why you had the Firebirds.” Of course—he didn’t keep the extras and “repair” them; this other Theo, from the dimension where Triad is one step ahead of us—he was able to use those materials to re-create their own superior technology. “You doctored Dad’s car and framed Paul for murder.” “Guilty as charged, Meg.” In his face I hiss, “Stop calling me that!” Theo shoves me out of my seat, and we collapse onto the floor of the sub. I can feel the sub tilting downward—we’re going to run into the sand— but I can’t get him off me. His knees pin my legs down; his hands hold mine to the metal floor. “Are you going to keep fighting me or are you going to listen?” He breathes out sharply, as if he’s the one who’s upset. “I can explain.” “The hell you can.”
Theo presses down harder. His face is just above mine. “I came to your dimension three months ago. We knew your parents were on the verge of their breakthrough; as far as we know, you’re only the second dimension remotely comparable to ours to develop the tech. That meant we needed to form a strategic alliance.” Three months ago is when he started using drugs, going AWOL for hours at a time, calling me Meg—acting different in every way. How could I not have seen it? Although I try to twist beneath him, I can hardly move. “Is this your idea—of—making friends?” “Every alliance has a leader.” Theo’s expression truly looks more sad than angry. “Like every war has a general.” “War? Are you even listening to yourself? Two dimensions can’t—go to war with each other! It’s insane.” “Back in the day, they thought the invention of the airplane would make war impossible. You know, who could move troops in secret once people could look down from the air? But then someone thought of putting bombs in the planes, and everything changed. Every technology mankind invents, human beings turn against one another. It’s only a matter of time. If we don’t start the battle, another dimension will, and they might be a hell of a lot worse.” I remember Conley’s speech in the Londonverse, about how warfare evolves along with us. That stops me short for a moment. I’m no less furious at Theo, but the idea of what could be out there—watching, waiting, looking for a moment to strike— Theo nods, suddenly hopeful. “You see now, right? We have to band together. We have to take the power for ourselves, before it’s taken away from us.” “Nobody’s threatening you.” My wrists hurt; his grip around them is harder than handcuffs. “You’re the ones who went on the attack. Don’t pretend you’re not.” He keeps talking like I hadn’t said anything at all. “When I came over, at first I was supposed to slow your parents down a little bit—let us get a little farther ahead—but it was already too late for that. What I could do was create a traveler. A perfect traveler. You only get one chance per dimension, you know. Conley is ours. For your dimension, out of everyone else in the world, he chose you.” “Wow. I feel really special,” I spit back at him. Literally—our faces are that close. The sub is rocking now, rudderless, the white crescent of sand tilting through the window. “So you let them kidnap Dad?” “Paul was screwing everything up. They took Henry, and I—you
know, I drove his car to the river, messed with the brakes, made sure it went over the side. If the car went into the water, you guys wouldn’t expect to find a body right away, if ever. It was just about buying Triad time.” Of course. Theo’s always been the one working on cars. Why didn’t I realize he’d be the one to cut somebody’s brakes? “You let me think Dad was dead. Mom still thinks that, and Josie too. Did you even ask yourself what you were doing to us?” “Come on, come on, listen to me, will you? Do you understand how much power this gives you? This is a huge opportunity, if you’ll just take it.” Theo shakes his head; there are actually tears in his eyes. “I’ve hated lying to you. To all of you. What I feel for you, it’s not only what your Theo felt, you know? It looked like I didn’t have a chance with you in my own dimension, and when I realized I might get another shot, I wasn’t going to waste it. But I didn’t take advantage. You know I didn’t. In London, I held back. I wanted you to make your own decision. I said, when we were both ourselves, remember?” “Yeah, you deserve a medal.” “I swear to God, if I could get you out of this whole mess, I would. But I can’t, Marguerite. I can’t. The only way I can save you is by getting you to see how you have to play this.” “‘Play this’? It’s not a game, Theo! You would’ve killed Paul.” By now I’m as close to crying as Theo is, though mine are tears of rage. “I was always going to come clean eventually. What do you think was going to happen in Lab Eleven? What Conley was going to tell you if you’d made the meet at the Dragon Gate? We were going to tell you the truth, the whole truth, make you see that you could get Henry home safe and sound. Conley was bringing you on board! Don’t you get it? The smart move here is to join him. Join us. If you join us, you’ll never be hurt again. Not ever. I’d spend the rest of my life making sure of that, Meg. I promise you.” You mean, you were going to blackmail me by holding Dad hostage. I’m on the verge of shouting that back at Theo, trying to snap him out of his delusions about Conley—but then the sub shifts more violently beneath us, and I see the entire view turn white with sand. I scream just before we crash. The sub grounds out, with the grinding of propellers breaking against stone. We tumble over and over, Theo and me bouncing away from and into each other, a dozen small collisions that all seem to draw blood. I manage to grab onto my seat as the submersible skids over the lip of the trench, and we begin to tumble down into the infinite deep. Theo told me earlier—this submersible will only hold to about 1,500 feet. After that, the underwater pressure will crush us like a fist around a soda
can. “Shit.” Theo braces himself against one wall, then pushes forward to the control panel. He tries to restart our propellers, but the terrible grinding sound they make tells us they aren’t working. The gauge reads 650 feet—700 —750— I swing into my seat, trying to ignore the terrible bobbing and scraping that’s taking us farther down into blackness. “What do we do?” “We try to hang on.” With shaking, bruised hands Theo activates the retrieval clamp; it swings out, trying to find purchase. Theo and I sit side by side, wordless, listening to metal thud against stone. Our fall never slows. Just as I feel fear rising to the point of panic, the clamp finds some spur or jutting stone and locks on. We jerk to a stop, then swing there, suspended. For the moment, we’re safe—but as we both know, the clamp may only have hooked onto something very fragile. Any moment, the weight of the sub could break it and send us hurtling down again, to our deaths. “Okay,” Theo says, taking a deep breath. He flips the comm switch back to on. “Salacia? Salacia, this is—what, Submersible One? It’s Theo and Marguerite. Over.” No response, not even static: We’re too deep for our communications system to work. He runs one hand through his hair. “So, we have to stay calm and figure out—” I slam Theo’s head into the console, as hard as I can. In the split second he’s stunned, I claw at his throat, forcing him down the way he forced me. “We’re not partners.” The words grind out through my gritted teeth. “We never will be. Tell Conley that.” Theo’s stronger than I am—he throws me off, and I stagger backward. Before he can follow, though, I get myself on the other side of the divide and hit the button that separates the sub compartments. The watertight doors slam shut, separating me from Theo—him in the front with the now useless control panel, and me in the back with the diving gear. Fortunately the lock is clearly labeled. I make sure it’s activated, keeping us apart. “Marguerite?” Theo’s face appears in the door’s thin sliver of superthick glass. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “Getting out of here.” Because one of the other very clearly labeled things in the back is the ESCAPE POD. The small, circular passageway is something I can slide through easily;
what waits on the other side is a tiny dark sphere that will require me to curl into a ball. What about air? What about getting back to the surface? I’d assume something like this is pretty much automated—but I don’t like making assumptions almost a thousand feet underwater. Still, my only alternative is hanging around here. Theo’s going to figure out how to get through that lock sooner or later. Probably sooner. So I have to go. “You can’t make it up on your own from this depth,” Theo calls through the thick glass. “Don’t kill yourself trying to get away from me, all right? I’m not going to hurt you.” “I’m getting out of here and going home,” I repeat, stepping closer to the door where he stands. “And I’m taking my dad with me.” Then I slam my hand against the glass and watch Theo’s eyes widen as he sees what I’ve been holding in my palm—his Firebird. The one I snatched from his neck during our fight. The one he was counting on to get him out of this—and the one that’s going to bring my father back where he belongs. “Come on. Don’t do this.” Theo’s face is white. Good. “You thought this dimension was good enough to strand Dad in,” I say as I go to the escape pod’s opening. “Hope you like being stranded here too.” “Marguerite!” Then I slide into the pod, and Theo’s words are muffled so that I can’t exactly hear him any longer. Right now, I’m in a lot more danger than he is. This submarine seems to be intact; even if it can’t move right now, it’s watertight and pressurized. Sure, Theo is stuck, but a crew from the Salacia will be down as soon as possible. As angry as Dad’s going to be when he realizes the truth about Theo, he’d never leave anyone to die. Me? I’m launching myself into the hostile world beyond the sub—into the cold, crushing dark. But if I stay here, eventually Theo’s going to get through that door. He’ll get the Firebird back from me, and then Dad and I will once again be at the mercy of Wyatt Conley’s schemes. That’s not going to happen. Shaking, I hit the yellow panel that says Launch Prep. Metal discs pinwheel out from the sides of the door to seal me in completely. There’s a distant pounding, probably Theo throwing himself against the doors in a last, desperate bid to get my attention, but I refuse to look. No expansive large windows here—just a slim transparent sliver that lets me see just how forbidding it is outside. Nothing is near us, nothing at all
except the depth of the crevasse. But this is my only chance. I suck in a deep breath, put my hand to the red panel that says Final Launch—and hit it. Instantly metal clamps click and thud, and then the pod falls into the ocean. At first I’m terrified. I’m falling! I’m going to fall all the way down— but then some sort of motor kicks in and propels me upward. Then it feels like liberation. As unbelievably dark and cramped as it is in here, I’m free. Down this far, it’s too dark to see the surface of the water. Maybe I could on a brighter day, but the storm overhead is blocking what little light might penetrate this deep. The only illumination comes from the glow-in-thedark paint within the pod . . . but that’s not much, just a few lines within the panels. Probably I was supposed to bring some kind of flashlight in here with me. I’ll have to remember that next time, I think, but it’s not funny. Surely there’s some sort of heat, or insulating safety blankets I haven’t found. All I know is this chill can’t be safe. I’m surrounded by metal, and by water that’s only a few degrees above freezing, which means it’s already so cold in here I’m shaking. Every moment I get clumsier as my limbs start to go numb. Another factor I hadn’t counted on was my exhaustion. Theo and I just took turns beating the crap out of each other—and that’s after a morning that began with me climbing weather stations in storm-force gales. It’s important to stay awake, to figure out how to contact help once I get to the surface, but the cold and the weariness are dragging me down. Adrenaline can only take me so far, but I’m determined that it’s going to take me far enough. You can make it, I think, but it sounds desperate and unrealistic, even to me. I bet it’s safe. You’ll be to the surface soon; it can’t be much farther. Oh, God, how much farther is it? How far? And then, brilliant as a sunrise, light breaks underwater, streaming through the one slim window I have to the ocean beyond. The spotlights bathe me in their glow, so bright I have to turn my head away and squint. As they come closer, the form behind them takes shape—it’s a sub, but not one of the ones from Salacia. Which means there’s only one person it could be. Slowly my murky view of the world above takes the shape of the sub’s white belly as it lowers itself over the escape pod; it’s like looking up into the sky. A crescent-shaped opening waxes above me like a moon the color of night. The pod bobs up through that opening, into the diving bay of the sub. The door shuts again, and water begins to be pumped out, the levels falling moment by moment as the pod settles onto the diving bay’s floor. I feel so heavy. So tired. But I manage to stay awake, even to stay
mostly calm, despite the dizziness and nausea I recognize as potential signs of pressure sickness. Water ebbs from the escape pod; only trickles remain on the floor. From where I sit curled within the pod, I watch the pressure indicator on the wall glow red—still red—and then green. I hit the green panel that says Door Release; the metal spirals open again, and I’m able to push open the pod’s door. I flop onto the wet metal mesh of the floor like a hooked fish, weak and shaking. As I gulp in a deep breath, I hear the doors near me slide open. I turn to see Paul running toward me, something silvery in his hands. “Marguerite,” he whispers as he fastens a breathing mask over my nose and mouth. “You’re safe, all right? You’re safe. Just breathe in and out, as deeply as you can.” All I can do is nod, and breathe. Within two inhalations, I feel slightly better. Which is to say—I feel like crap, but no longer like I might be on the verge of passing out. “What is this stuff?” “Don’t talk,” Paul says as he unfolds a shiny insulating blanket and covers me with it, tucking it around my shoulders, my legs. “You’re breathing a special gas designed to counteract pressure sickness. Very advanced. Invented by the brilliant oceanographer Dr. Sophia Kovalenka.” Of course Mom turned out to be as much of a genius in oceanography as she was in physics. Of course. I can’t help smiling beneath the mask. Paul sits on the wet floor by me, close enough to lift my head so that it rests against his knee. His hands warm me, rubbing my cold arms and legs, even as he bends and kisses my forehead. “I wasn’t sure it was you,” he murmurs. “It could have been Theo in the pod—and I thought, if he left her down there, if he hurt her, stranded her —” “No. He’s the one who’s stranded.” I look up at him as best I can with the silver mask over my face. “I took Theo’s Firebird. That means Dad can go home.” “My God.” Then Paul bends over me, cradles me in his arms, as if he’s sheltering me from the whole world. I close my eyes, and despite everything, I think I’ve never felt so safe. We rise through the water until it once again turns blue around us, and the breathing mask is no longer necessary. Paul only stops looking after me to dock his sub—one of the bigger, long-distance models that only travel with the largest science vessels. “We get to go home,” I whisper. Moments ago I was exhausted and terrified; now I’m warm and safe in Paul’s arms. I could almost fall asleep
right here in his lap, pillowing my head against his strong chest. His muscles flex as he works the directional controls; I love that he’s piloting the sub without letting go of me. “We won.” “The battle. Not the war.” “I know Triad will come after me again. I realize that. And they think I’m theirs to manipulate.” I’m vulnerable to them; as long as there are people in the world I love, that will be true. But vulnerable isn’t the same as helpless. “They’re going to learn better.” Paul smiles. “When they went after you—Triad didn’t know what they were getting into.” He turns his attention back to the controls as we complete docking. The clamps settle around his sub with a solid, metallic clang, and I hear the whirring sound of the station’s airlock coupling with ours. Paul puts one hand under my knees and stands with me in his arms, carrying me to the portal. When the door swooshes open, Josie is standing on the other side to check in the latest refugees. She startles as she sees me. “Marguerite?” “We wrecked,” I say. “Theo’s still out there. I swam up the first couple hundred feet; Paul picked me up from there.” “Holy crap. You crashed the submersible?” Josie puts her hands on her hips. “And exactly how many guys are showing up to visit you today?” “I think she’s a little out of it,” Paul says to Josie, as he gently settles me back on my feet. “At any rate, she could use something warm to drink and a lot of rest. And I know Marguerite wants to see her father.” I say, “I can hear you, you know.” But Paul might not be wrong about my being out of it. I’m overwhelmed physically, emotionally, you name it. Right now I only want to curl back into Paul’s arms. I take Josie’s hand and let her help me over the step. She guides me to one of the benches as she says, “Aren’t you coming?” “No,” Paul replies. “Paul?” I look back at him. He stands there in his own sub, his T-shirt and slacks striped with water, the Firebird hanging around his neck. He looks at me as if he’s drinking me in, as if he’s trying to memorize me. “What are you doing?” “The storm’s blowing in hard. Theo’s in a broken submersible hanging over the edge of the trench. I can’t leave him out there.” Josie turns on me. “Wait, what? You wrecked in the trench?” I ignore this. “If it’s dangerous for him, it’s dangerous for you. And he’s the one who started it.” “The Theo who spied on us started it,” Paul agrees. “But the Theo from this dimension never hurt us. He doesn’t deserve to die for someone
else’s sins. And . . . he’s Theo.” He’s right—so right it shames me. “I shouldn’t have stranded him down there.” “You stranded that guy? On purpose?” By now Josie is beside herself. Paul takes one step toward me, his gray eyes intense. “You did what you had to do, to save your father and yourself. Don’t blame yourself for a situation someone else put you in. But I have to rescue Theo if I can.” “You just had to ditch me one more time on this trip, huh?” “Marguerite—” But I can’t even deal any longer. “Go, and come back in one piece, or I swear to God I will kick your ass.” Paul touches my face—his thumb against my still-wet lips, like a kiss —then steps back into his sub. His hand thumps a panel on the wall, and the doors slide shut again. When I turn to Josie, she’s staring at me like I grew a second head. Very quietly she says, “Do I even want to know what’s going on?” “No.” She exhales, puffing out her cheeks in frustration—but instantly she’s back to business. “We need the airlock. Let’s go.” Within minutes, I’m standing at one of the lower windows, watching Paul’s white sub vanish into the murky waters. I press my palm against the cold glass. “Marguerite?” I turn my head to see Dad walking toward me, concern etched into every line of his face. “Josie’s in a state. She’s told me what happened, or what she thinks happened, but the story doesn’t make a lot of sense. Are you all right?” I can’t tell whether he remembers himself right now or not. It doesn’t matter. “I’m all right.” I fish out the other Firebird and put it in his hand. “We’re going home.”
27 I OPEN MY EYES. This time, there’s no sensation of force, no moment of disorientation. Instead it’s almost as if I nodded off for a moment, then gently woke. Slowly, I look around. Night has fallen here, but only just—the western edge of the sky is still a paler blue, tinted faintly pink at the horizon. I’m sitting on the steps of our deck, wearing my lace dress with my father’s cardigan over it, both hands clasping the Firebird around my neck. In other words, I’m in the exact same position I was when I left a month ago. “I’m home,” I whisper. “I’m home.” Quickly I scramble up the back steps and to the sliding glass doors. As usual, Mom hasn’t locked them, so I run inside. The sight of my own house fills me with almost delirious happiness: Piles of paper! Physics equations on the walls! Mom’s potted plants! Even the rainbow table— —and, sitting on the sofa, Mom. She gasps, “Marguerite!” “Mom!” I run to her, but she meets me halfway. Her arms go around me so tightly that I realize anew how badly I must have scared her these past few weeks. “I’m so sorry, Mom, but I made it. We made it.” “You’re safe? You’re well?” Tears spill down my mother’s face as she brushes my hair back from my face. “But you didn’t hurt Paul, did you? We decoded his note hours after we got yours—” “Oh, my God, you’re back!” Josie comes barreling out of the kitchen to tackle me onto the sofa. “I’m going to kill you for scaring us like that. But first I have to tell you I love you, you crazy little brat.” “I love you, too,” I say as I hug her close. “But there’s so much we have to talk about.” “Triad,” Mom says, and her smile dims, but only slightly. “We know. That doesn’t matter now, sweetheart, as long as you’re home and safe.” “You know? But how . . .” My voice trails off as a third person steps out of the hallway. Theo. He tries to grin at me, but it doesn’t quite work. “Welcome back.”
At first all I can feel is panic. He followed me here, somehow he got out of the sub and followed me here—and then I realize what this actually means. The guy standing here in his Mumford & Sons shirt and cargo pants is my Theo, the one Triad took over months ago so that their spy could act in his place. This Theo would never have done any of this to me or to anybody in my family. I know that. I believe it. And yet it’s hard to make my heart accept it. “You know the truth, then. I can see it in your face.” Theo grimaces. “You never used to be scared of me.” Quickly I say, “I’m not scared. It’s just—it’s a lot to take in. And, yeah. I know.” “Did he hurt you?” Theo’s voice breaks. “If that son of a bitch hurt you —” “No,” I say, which almost isn’t a lie. “And Paul? Is Paul okay?” At that moment, when I see that Theo’s as frightened for Paul as he was for me, I remember the love between them, and that even now, a dimension away, Paul is risking his life to save a Theo he doesn’t even know—and a Theo who tried to kill him. “Paul’s all right. He’ll come back soon,” I say. Josie breathes out a sigh of relief, and I can see the tension in Theo’s shoulders relax the tiniest amount. Mom interjects, “Theo came to us the moment Triad’s spy left. He told us everything. But by then it was too late—you were gone, and we knew Triad could get to you and we couldn’t, so there was nothing we could do or even say without endangering you. We’ve been working on our own Firebirds, hoping to follow you, but that work doesn’t go quickly. The last month has been hell.” She sounds more than four weeks older as she says it. “But now you’re here. You’ve come home.” I wrest myself from Josie’s embrace, my smile returning to my face. “And now we have to go. All of us, right this second.” “Go where?” Mom asks, frowning. She doesn’t understand. None of them do. None of them know yet, the best news of all. “To the university.” I take my mother’s hands to ease the shock, and look into all of their faces in turn before saying, “We have to pick up Dad.” Despite everything that’s happened to me in the past couple of hours, I’m the only one calm enough to drive. So I steer Josie’s silver Volkswagen through the hilly streets. In the back seat, Mom and Josie are alternating between sobs of joy and horrible moments of doubt. They’re still overwhelmed, still afraid
to believe. Theo rides in the seat next to me, his expression stark as he stares straight ahead. Neither of us has spoken to the other since we got in the car. I don’t think we have any idea what to say. Then I realize the first thing I need to know. “What was it like when you were, you know—taken over?” Although he still doesn’t look at me, he relaxes a little. “At first it was like I was just losing time. Blacking out or something. I thought I was working too hard on the Firebird project, skipping too much sleep, something like that. Didn’t mention it to Henry or Sophia, because I thought they’d tell me to take it easy and I might miss out.” Theo sighs. “If I had, maybe one of them would’ve realized what was going on. So, that was pretty stupid.” “You couldn’t have known.” Inside I find myself thinking of every other Marguerite I inhabited. At the time, I felt as though I was making responsible choices—or that if I made mistakes, they were the mistakes those Marguerites would have made in my place. But now that I see Theo’s profound sense of violation, I wonder if that’s how they feel, too. “After he started using that green stuff, everything changed. I was aware of what was going on, but it was—distant. Foggy. It reminded me of twilight sleep at the dentist. Then he’d leave. Go back to his own dimension to, I don’t know, report in or whatever. By the time I could feel myself sobering up, he’d be back.” I remember now, back in the Triadverse, the talk about Theo’s timeconsuming “internship” with Conley. Really Theo was traveling between dimensions as Conley’s spy—going back only often enough to maintain his cover story. Finally Theo looks at me, though his gaze is hesitant. “Once the son of a bitch moved on for good, I could only remember the big details—that they’d done something awful to Henry, that I’d framed Paul for it, and that they were after you. They’d been after you the whole time, and I couldn’t even warn you. We had to wait here, not knowing if we’d ever see you again.” As much as I sympathize with the pain I hear in his voice, I can’t let Theo keep beating himself up about this. “I made it back. Okay? You have to stop worrying about the past. Worry about the future, because Triad’s definitely going to keep trying.” “Oh, I’ve been thinking about Triad. Trust me, I’ve been thinking a lot. They had their chance to surprise us, and now they’re going to get a few surprises in return.” Theo actually smiles, but it’s the scariest-looking smile I’ve ever seen. I wouldn’t want to be Wyatt Conley right now. We reach the university campus. It’s a still place between semesters,
almost abandoned, with only a handful of the usual cars in the parking lots and a few forlorn international students wandering around. With a stomp on the gas pedal, I speed us toward the lab and pull into the closest spot. Josie’s Volkswagen is so tiny that we must look like clowns spilling out of a circus car. As I peer through the darkness on the grounds, I don’t see anyone close by. Mom steps in front of me. “Henry?” Her voice shakes as she calls his name again. “Henry?” Then I see what she’s seen—the shape running out of the shadows. “Sophie!” Dad shouts as he dashes straight into Mom’s arms. Somehow we all wind up on the ground in a group hug, and everyone’s crying and everyone’s laughing and we probably look like crazy people, but I don’t care one bit. And yet, down deep, I’m still afraid. What about Paul? As we disentangle ourselves and get to our feet again, Mom kisses Dad —and I don’t mean, like, a normal kiss; I mean, she lays one on him. I’ve always been glad my parents loved each other so much, but I never felt like I was watching anything quite this intimate. As I turn my head to give them a little privacy, Josie giggles. “That’s right,” she says, wiping tears from her cheeks. “You weren’t with me that time I walked in on them doing the deed. Seriously Freudian horror.” “You saw your parents at their best,” Mom murmurs, before Dad sweeps her into another kiss. “Go ahead,” Josie calls. “Mate in public. Tonight we won’t even mind. You deserve to break a few decency laws.” I can’t bear it any longer. “I have to go. I have to find Paul.” Slowly Theo nods. “Come on. I’ll take you there.” Together we run across the dark campus, past enormous, empty buildings and then into a block of dormitories. They look nicer than I thought dorms would be—more like apartment buildings. The lock on the door is ultramodern: a huge black access-card reader that stops me in my tracks. “ID reader,” Theo says as he fishes his student ID out of his wallet. One swipe, and the lock clicks, letting us in the building. Together Theo and I walk up two flights of stairs and along the hallway until we reach Paul’s door. Hoping against hope, I knock and call out, “Paul?” No reply. So we stand there in the hallway, with nothing to do but wait. “You say Paul’s in danger because he’s saving my evil twin?” Theo
leans against one wall, folding his arms in front of his chest. “And the other you, the oceanographer from that dimension. The one who got pulled into this against his will, like you did.” “Little brother,” Theo says softly. “You know he’d never leave you when you were in trouble.” “Yeah. I know. But even evil me?” I take a moment to word this correctly, because it’s a hard thing to accept, and probably even harder if you’ve been through what Theo has. “Evil you is still you,” I say as gently as I can. “He actually thought he was helping me. The guy’s not a monster. He’s just a . . . slightly inferior version.” Theo sighs. “If you say so.” Silence falls between us. I keep staring at the door, willing Paul to suddenly appear on the other side and open it for me. Nothing happens. The storm was getting worse. What if Paul’s sub wasn’t able to dock? What if he crashed like Theo and I did? Maybe they’re both drowning, even now, or being crushed by the impossible pressure— “Tell me one thing,” Theo says. I never stop staring at Paul’s door. “Sure, okay. What?” “This other Theo—he cost me my chance with you, didn’t he?” Stricken, I turn back toward Theo, who smiles at me unevenly. “Because I did have a chance, didn’t I? For a little while there? Could’ve sworn I did.” He shrugs. “But now you’re standing here looking at Paul’s freakin’ door the way I always used to wish you’d look at me.” A few months ago, if Theo had said something—would it have changed who I fell for? I don’t know; I’ll never know. So I say only, “I’m sorry.” “Me too. But if I have to let somebody else have you, at least it’s him.” Theo nods toward the door. And within that room, something moves. I suck in a breath. Theo and I exchange glances, and then I call out, “Paul? Paul, are you in there?” Quickly I knock. “It’s me. It’s—” The door opens, and my fist makes contact with Paul’s chest. In that first instant, I can’t speak. I can only stare up at him as he slowly smiles. I launch myself into his arms. Paul hugs me back fiercely, like he never wants to let me go. “Happy endings all around, almost,” Theo says as he takes a couple of steps backward. “I’m going to head out, you guys.” “Theo?” Paul never lets go of me, but he looks over my shoulder, only slightly less happy about this second reunion. “It’s really you?” “The one and only,” Theo says. “Accept no substitutes. Which I realize
is easier said than done, these days.” He sounds like his old self, and I have to grin. Paul reaches one hand out to Theo, who clasps it in something that’s more than a handshake—it looks like old paintings of Romans swearing allegiance to each other, swearing to die by each other’s side. Their bond is too powerful to be destroyed by their feelings for me, or their rivalry. But Theo can’t keep up the pretense that it doesn’t bother him, seeing us wrapped together like this. As he lets go of Paul and takes a few steps back, his smile is strained. “I’m gonna—I’m grabbing the good Dr. Kovalenka and the resurrected Dr. Caine and the soon-to-be-doctor Josephine and bringing them over this way. Soon we’ll have the band back together.” I whisper, “Thank you, Theo.” “You crazy kids have fun,” he says, and then he turns around to go. For a moment we watch him leave—but then Paul pulls me into his room and closes the door. As soon as he does, though, reality intrudes. Everything I know about Paul, everything I feel for him, is swallowed up in uncertainty. In the love I felt for Lieutenant Markov, who lies dead a universe away. I don’t say a word, but Paul understands. He takes a deep breath as he steps slightly closer. “I’m not the one you loved. I know that.” “How can you know when I don’t?” He shakes his head, not denying what I’m saying but moving past it. “Something in us has to be the same, Marguerite. I know we both feel the same way about you. After the way you lost him, I don’t expect you to—to rush into anything, to know your own heart right away. But I’d like for us to find out if what you felt . . . if it wasn’t for him alone. If anything you felt was for me.” Some of it was. Is. I know that; I always have. Paul says, “Will you give me a chance, Marguerite?” I feel the smile spreading over my face, lighting me up inside. “Yeah,” I whisper as I take his hand. “Oh, yeah.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS THIS BOOK COULD NOT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN WITHOUT Jordan Weaver (formerly my publicist in Australia); Dan Wells and Lauren Oliver (my partners on the book tour where I first thought of this concept); Diana Fox (my agent and destroyer of plot holes); Ruth Hanna, Edy Moulton, and Amy Garvey (beta readers and cheerleaders extraordinaire); Sarah Landis (my former editor at HarperTeen, whose input on the first draft was invaluable); Rodney Crouther, Jesse Holland, Whitney Swindoll Raju, and Eric O’Neill (for constant encouragement); Walter Wolf and Alexandra Mora (who recommended a book that wound up being inspirational); my parents and the rest of my family (for all their enthusiasm and encouragement); Kiersten White (for providing constant support); Florence Welch (of the Machine fame); and last but not least, Marina Frants (when you are writing a book that involves both Russia and oceanography, it is very helpful to have a friend who is both Russian and an oceanographer). Not all of the above people knew they were contributing—I feel sure Florence Welch is oblivious to her part in this—but each of them provided some critical element that went into A Thousand Pieces of You.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Photo by Keith Claunch CLAUDIA GRAY is the pseudonym of New Orleans–based writer Amy Vincent, the author of the New York Times bestselling Evernight series. She has worked as a lawyer, a journalist, a disc jockey, and an extremely poor waitress. Her grandparents’ copy of Mysteries of the Unexplained is probably the genesis of her fascination with most things mysterious and/or inexplicable. Visit her online at www.claudiagray.com. Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors and artists.
BOOKS BY CLAUDIA GRAY EVERNIGHT STARGAZER HOURGLASS AFTERLIFE BALTHAZAR FATEFUL SPELLCASTER STEADFAST
CREDITS Cover art © 2014 by Craig Shields Cover design by Elizabeth Clark
COPYRIGHT HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. A THOUSAND PIECES OF YOU. Copyright © 2014 by Amy Vincent. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books. www.epicreads.com Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Gray, Claudia. A thousand pieces of you / Claudia Gray. — First edition. pages cm Summary: “When eighteen-year-old Marguerite Caine’s father is killed, she must leap into different dimensions and versions of herself to catch her father’s killer and avenge his murder” —Provided by publisher. ISBN 978-0-06-227896-8 (hardcover) EPub Edition © September 2014 ISBN 9780062278982 [1. Space and time—Fiction. 2. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. 3. Family life—Fiction. 4. Murder—Fiction. 5. Science fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.G77625Tho 2014 2014001894 [Fic]—dc23 CIP AC 14 15 16 17 18 LP/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
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